The next morning they were overjoyed to find that the ponies had awakened and were trying to get up.

“Lead them out of that grass, fellows,” shouted Tad, the moment he saw the ponies were coming around.  “We don’t want them to make another meal of that stuff”

“Nor take another of Chunky’s Rip Van Winkle sleeps,” added Ned.

Never having had a like experience, none of the lads knew what to do with their mounts after getting them sufficiently awake to lead them to a place of safety.  They appealed to Juan for advice, but the lazy Mexican appeared to know even less than they.

Tad, after studying the question a few moments, decided to give them water, though sparingly.  This they appeared to relish and braced up quite a little.  But the boy would not allow them to graze until nearly noon, when each one took his pony out, making sure that there was none of the sleepy grass around.  The animals were then permitted to graze.

About the middle of the afternoon Tad decided that all were fit to continue the journey, and that it would be safe to travel until sunset.  Everyone was glad to get away from the spot where they had had such unpleasant experiences, and the boys set off, moving slowly, the stock not yet being in the best of condition.

Late in the afternoon, when they had about decided to make camp, one of the boys espied an object, something like a quarter of a mile away, that looked like the roof of a house.

Ned said it couldn’t be that, as it appeared to be resting on the ground.  They asked Juan if he knew what it was, and for a wonder he did.  He said it was a dug-out—­ a place where a man lived.

“Is he a hermit?” asked Stacy apprehensively, at which there was a laugh.  Stacy had not forgotten his experiences in the cave of the hermit of the Nevada Desert.

For the next hour, the lads were too busy, pitching tents and unloading the pack animals, to give further thought to the dug-out or its occupant; but when, after they had prepared their evening meal, they saw some one approaching on horseback, they were instantly curious again.

The newcomer proved to be the owner of the dug-out.  He was a tall, square-jawed man, with a short, cropped iron-gray beard and small blue, twinkling eyes.

“Will you join us and have some supper?” asked Tad politely, walking out to greet the stranger.

“Thank you; I will, young man,” smiled the stranger.

Tad introduced himself and companions.

“You probably have heard my name before, young men.  It is Kris Kringle; I’m living out here for my health and doing a little ranching on the side.”

Stacy looked his amazement.

“Is—­ is he Santa Claus?” he whispered, tugging at Tad’s coat sleeve.

“No, young man.  I am not related to the gentleman you refer to,” grinned Mr. Kringle.

There was a general laugh at Stacy’s expense.